Life

by Sullivan, Leo

  Blazack just looked at me as he ran his tongue around the diamonds in his mouth like he was searching for the right words. I caught him off guard. But now he knew that I knew he was playing both sides of the street. From the look in his eyes, I could tell he was trying to figure out how in the hell I found out. The room became quiet. This was a standoff.

  From there on out, the events that took place in that basement would seal my fate. I tried to let my mind catch up with my thoughts, appraise the situation for what it was worth. Quickly, with Blazack staring me down, my assessment went to damage control. My ship with a small crew of niggas was taking in water like the Titanic with a hole in it. I had to plug the hole, fast!

  “The reason that I came here was to give ya’ll niggas a big raise in pay,” I lied. The whole time I kept my eyes on Blazack. I went on and told them about the plan I had for operating out of safe houses. Each one of them would be assigned a house with a crew under them that they would be responsible for. When I told them I had the cop, Spitler, in my pocket, they were all happy to hear that. Spitler could be a royal pain in the ass for a dope boy. With some of the tension gone, I turned to Blazack.

  “Dig yo, you can bounce my nigga if you got a problem with what I’m asking you to do. But if you do decide to get your shit together, you get ten grand a week.”

  It wasn’t no military secret, Blazack was the glue that held us together. Every team had to have an enforcer, a man that didn’t mind getting paid in blood. Blazack smiled at me.

  “However.” I continued, “You’re suspended for two weeks with no pay.” The smile died on Blazack’s face as his eyebrows knotted together.

  “Gucci, you’re going to take Blazack’s position until …”

  I let the word hang in the air as I gave Blazack a look that came with a silent threat.

  He cursed. Called me a bitch-ass nigga under his breath. I acted like I didn’t hear him.

  That day when I walked out of that basement, for the first time in my life I won the entire respect of the crew, including Blazack’s.

  *****

  “What do you want to drink?” I asked Major, trying not to look him in the face as we got into my car. He looked like he stood in front of a train.

  I knew he was in great pain as he mumbled, “Whatever.” I saw the tears in his eyes. Eyes of a defeated man. A mere husk of his former self. Major had not one, but two college degrees. He was in the Marines and had the pleasant demeanor of a soft-spoken Southern gentlemen with manners to match. I knew how bad he wanted to get off the dope, but the demons wouldn’t let him. He talked to me about it on several occasions.

  We drove through Frenchtown, the place looked like the walking dead. Junkies tried to flag down my car hoping to buy some dope. Nina Brown stood in the middle of the street like she had an ‘S’ on her chest looking like a zombie. I almost ran her over. I knew if I stopped they would rush my car like starving Africans do missionaries.

  As I drove, casually I asked Major where was the dope was that he stole from Blazack. I didn’t really expect for him to be truthful with me. When he told me that he had it stashed over a female’s crib, and the only reason he did not tell Blazack was because he was afraid Blazack would kill her, too. We stopped off and picked up the dope. I took half and gave him the rest. I pulled into a drive-through liquor store, bought a bottle of E&J, a bag of ice and coconut cream to cut it with. I flirted with a sexy redbone cashier that looked like Sade.

  Drinking and driving, sipping on juice with my system booming, I pulled into the mean strip on FAMU College campus. Even though it was raining a light drizzle, females, honeys galore, were jocking my ride. College girls be on dope boys like groupies on rappers.

  At 11:04 a.m., I was looking for Trina’s car. It was still raining. I found her car in the parking lot. Moments later, as scheduled, she came out of the building wearing blue jeans and a gray FAMU sweat shirt with a black leather jacket that had NY stenciled on the back in big purple letters. She wore my Chicago Bulls baseball cap pulled down over her eyes as she walked to her car with umbrella in hand. I honked the horn. As soon as she saw me her face lit up and she gave me a mischievous grin. I know what was on her mind. Sex. Occasionally I would pick her up from school and we would go back to her place right off campus and have sex. She hardly ever stayed there, so I also thought it was an ideal spot to hide the money since it was her job to pick it up daily. Trina could get so animated when she was happy, maybe that was the Spanish side of her. She approached my car like she was dancing in the rain. The bounce in her step had her ponytail swinging like a devious kitten. With all the vibrance of a young woman ready to set out to conquer the world, no one would have ever thought she could be the brainchild to a million dollar drug ring. A Brooklyn chick.

  I rolled down the window and she kissed me with enough tongue to hang a man with, she then looked in the car at Major.

  “Ouch, what happened to him?” she asked. I shrugged my shoulders as if to say, I dunno.

  I got out of the car and walked under her umbrella to her car. We sat inside. I told her about our new living arrangements in Quincy. I talked as the rain pelted the car windows like soft music to my monologue, a conspiracy between lovers. I told her about the plantation mansion I was going to buy and remodel. She listened intently. Afterward, she asked about Black Pearl, I detected a real bond of sisterhood there. We both knew that Pearl was due to have the baby any day now.

  Ever so gently, Trina leaned over and kissed me passionately, sucking on my bottom lip as her fingers walked down my thigh until she reached my fly. She eased her hand inside. “Papi,” she crooned breathily as her hand stroked me. I closed my eyes just as the windows in the car began to fog.

  “Papi, I want to go to Freak Nic in Atlanta, me and the girls,” she said as she licked my neck with hot saliva and took my joint out of my pants. I was about to say yes, and then she added, “I’m going to stop by the prison and visit Mike.” Right then, for a fleeting second, I saw a gleam of something in her brown eyes. She was talking about her ex-boyfriend. My instincts tried to tell me something, but jealousy was a barrier as I thought, damn, this nigga in prison, but he’s out here in my girl’s mind.

  “No.” I answered Trina’s question flatly. She looked up at me with optic slits that were hard to read, but the message was conveyed, she still had feelings for him, and I was jealous and seething with the rage that came with it.

  “That’s your fuckin’ problem, you and your frat sistas party too damn much,” I snapped. Trina shook her head and craned her neck the way a woman does when she is trying to understand her man.

  I tried to soften the blow, hide my feelings like a fire under the bed, but the smoke was smoldering in the dark recess of my eyes. “Ma, this weekend we s’pposta fly out to meet wit yo peeps, remember?” I said with the timbre of my voice softening. She didn’t answer, she just stared at me for all it was worth as my joint went soft in her hands. She pulled away. I adjusted my fly, taking the opportunity to navigate my thoughts, it was an awkward situation. The last thing in the world I wanted was for this chick to know that I was getting emotionally attached to her.

  “I’m sending Tomica to Chicago and Evette to Baltimore. From here on out, we movin’ weight.”

  “But I thought you said we was never going to sell weight to keep the feds off.”

  “No! You said we were never going to sell weight. I’m changing the game plan, flipping the script. It takes too damn long to move a key of Boy in this country-ass town,” I said. For some reason I was angry, hurt. It felt like she betrayed me.

  “Papi, why you into your feelins?” Her words chimed. I just looked straight ahead, watched the rain dance off the windshield, thought about all the cash I had stashed at her place, duffel bags full. I couldn’t even count it all it was coming so fast.

  Like round two, Trina’s whole demeanor changed. She placed her hand into my lap. Her index finger gyrated a figure eight motion on my thigh. I turned and looked at her,
for the first time I saw Trina Vasquez, the actress. She was as fake as a three-dollar bill. I thought about what Blazack had said back there in the basement, “that Brooklyn bitch playin’ you like a sucka.”

  I hopped out of the car into the pouring rain, heard her shout as she called my name. Emotions spilling over like some volcanic reaction. That was the day that I decided to buy a money counting machine, several of them.

  I drove back to Quincy with Major as my sidekick. We drank E&J bumping Too Short’s “The Ghetto” on my Alpine system. I fired up a blunt, reflected back on my life. Trina’s words were haunting me. I knew it was time to start thinking about getting out of the game, but hell, I was just getting started. Besides, Trina’s people had me hooked.

  Two days later Black Pearl gave birth to a healthy baby boy. When she came home from the hospital, the girls decided to give her a baby shower. I had never seen so many ruddy females in my entire life. They even hired male strippers. I noticed that a few of Trina’s fraternity sisters brought rulers with them to use on the strippers. When dude showed up at the door wearing a cowboy suit I knew it was time for me to get the hell out of there.

  *****

  It took me a few weeks, but I was finally able to purchase the land that Black Pearl and I dreamed about. The old guy thought I was crazy, so did everybody else, except Black Pearl. She had been talking to decorators and architects about building a stylish mansion just like them white folks have out in Hollywood, so I flew in decorators from California and paid out the ass for it, too.

  *****

  Trina finally graduated from FAMU after being there seven years, majoring in a four-year course in Business Management. On the same day Trina graduated, Black Pearl turned seventeen, so I did the damn thang! We partied lavishly. I rented five stretch limos and filled them with cases of Moet and Alize. The next day I paid for thirty-eight tickets at eight hundred a pop, plus airfare, to go see a Mike Tyson fight at Madison Square Garden. The fight only lasted thirty-seven seconds. We still had a ball. For the first time I saw Blazack with a smile on his face that wasn’t from mischief, but the pure joy of being a big baller. The next morning we flew back to Florida. We were tired, hung over, pooped and partied out. I had another surprise for Trina. In the parking lot of her building complex off campus sat a top-of-the-line Mercedes. One of them big body Benzes. I even had it customized with a special stash spot and some other nice amenities. We decided to give Black Pearl Trina’s Lexus to zip around town in.

  The most amazing thing happened. Something that a man will never fully be able to understand, the metamorphosis that a woman experiences with her body after childbirth. Keep in mind, Black Pearl was like my baby sister, or for that matter, my daughter. After she had the baby she blossomed into a drop dead gorgeous beauty. Her hips spread wide, her butt got big like Wow.

  One of them ghetto booties with a small taut waistline, punctuated by the symmetry of her figure like a deformed Coke bottle. Lord, I tried not to look at that child’s rear end. If Trina, Tomica and Evette were dime pieces, then Black Pearl was definitely a twenty piece with her dark features, deep chocolate skin, perfect white teeth with a dazzling smile that could make a man blush from standing too close to beauty, not to mention body. She named her son Shawn L. The L was named after me. I thought that was kind of dope.

  Shawn L. was a cute little booger. Looked just like his mama. As soon as he started walking we called him Lil Man. The first words that came out his mouth were “muthafucka” and “money.” I taught him that.

  *****

  Two months later the remodeling of the Chateau was going lovely and I was bringing in so much money that I had to hire more workers. August 26, 1992, Lil Cal was found guilty. He was sentenced to life in prison. I immediately hired attorneys to work on his appeal. The last time we talked he sounded distraught, that was my nigga, and with all my newly achieved wealth, there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to help him other than send him money.

  *****

  May 1994, two years later, I was still in the game, only then, I wasn’t a playa, I was coaching from the sidelines, doing big thangs. Moving major weight. Tallahassee was small to me, so I gave Blazack the entire operation. That way officially it looked like I retired, but actually I graduated into the Ivy League right up there with the rest of the corporate American thugs. I was doing all the things that I promised Trina I would not do. Only now, I kept her out of my business. We were starting to grow apart. Money can do that to a relationship. I knew of her disdain for me selling dope. Even though I promised her I would get out, I couldn’t and sometimes I wondered if her cousin, Willie Falcon, would let me. I knew too much.

  To everyone’s delight, Pearl and I remodeled the old mansion into grandiose elegance with sprawling manicured landscaping of picturesque green pastures surrounded by a white picket fence that gave the estate the appearance of the White House. In the driveway and in the garage sat ten luxury cars including my two prized possessions, his and hers Rolls Royce convertible Bentleys sitting on dubs. We spent close to three million on remodeling the place. I named it “Chateau G.P.”

  For me, this was the testament of a hustler’s grind from having a team of niggas with one common interest: money. Outside, I lived lavishly. There was a waterfall connected to the swimming pool, and of course, a basketball court. Inside was sixteen thousand feet of nothing but plush luxury. Black Pearl had everything decorated white with sparkling crystal chandeliers, which accentuated the marble floors. There was even a white baby grand piano that sat in front of the picture window that overlooked the swimming pool. I installed a state-of-the-art security system with cameras set up so I could see any part of the house I wanted, both inside and out. I even had a secret passageway built in behind the bookshelves in my study, just in case I needed to make a quick escape if them folks came looking for me. About a year ago, Willie Falcon got nabbed in New York. The media had a frenzy. His bust made world news. The papers dubbed him the second biggest drug lord in the world. They said his empire was worth billions. So I continued to make moves with his backing, only now since his arrest, for some reason, more trust was bestowed to me. My millions were crumbs compared to his billions. So I moved weight, occasionally I would fly over to Colombia. The job was risky as hell, but the rewards were great. I’d never seen so much coke in my life. The last time I flew over there, the National Guard with the help of the DEA tried to shoot our plane down. Scared the shit out of me. That was the last time I flew to Colombia.

  *****

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Gangsta’s Paradise”

  – Life –

  I pulled the old Cadillac off the shoulder of the old dirt road onto the spiraling landscape of my estate as Lil Man sat on my lap. He liked to play drive with the steering wheel. Now, at 3 years old, he was a bundle of joy. I remember when I was a shorty, my old man used to do the same thing with me.

  It was one of them lazy Saturday mornings. I was just returning from the Mom and Pop grocery store up the hill. I was driving the first car that I purchased from back in the day when I first came up on the grind. The ‘73 Caddy was in mint condition. I made it a point to never let anyone see me drive my new whips. They were like awards given to the most valuable playa. Besides, Trina shined for the both of us. There is something about New York chicks. Trina drove around town in a customized white Bentley on dubs, she and her wild-ass homegirls.

  As usual, as I approached the security gates of the Chateau, with its large embellishment decorated in brown stone and white marble. Looking at this filled me with pride. I noticed that the gates were wide open and thought that was unusual of Major to leave them open like that. As soon as I turned into the circular driveway, I saw trouble, six unmarked police cars lined up. Spitler was standing next to the statue with the waterfall. For some reason it made him look small. My heart skipped a beat as I frantically stashed my heat under the seat. I saw Trina and Black Pearl watching from the doorway of the mansion. I got out of the car with L
il Man in my arms. I was trying to act nonchalant, but I could feel my leg shaking.

  Spitler walked toward me gingerly. I tried to read the expression on his face, but didn’t want to look him in his eyes. I learned long ago that white cops are easily intimidated by that. Spitler’s brown suit was wrinkled like he slept in it for days. His eyes were red with dark circles underneath them. A tuft of unruly blond hair hung over his left eye. Trina rushed out of the house, the sound of her slippers racked the concrete like a woman on the verge of panic. She took Lil Man out of my arms and looked at me and asked was everything all right. I told her to go back inside. She walked away with the baby on her hip and glanced back over her shoulder. In the distance, I saw Major grooming a horse watching me carefully.

  “How in the fuck did you get through that gate?” I asked pointing a finger at him.

  “I had one of my men take a sledgehammer to it,” he said.

  I turned, and vaguely I could see the face of a Black man sitting in the front seat of one of the cop cars.

  “What, you come to arrest me or sumpin?”

  “Maybe. I thought I told you not to sell that stuff to the white kids!” he said angrily jabbing his finger into my chest. I took a step backward and braced myself. In the background, I heard the sounds of police car doors opening.

  “Man you know damn well I don’t fuck around in Frenchtown no mo.”

  “Yeah, but your gang does, Blazack and his crew.”

  “Then that’s who the fuck you need to be harassing! He’s the one payin you now, not me. I’m outta the game.” I lied, and we both knew it. It was just that I graduated to selling weight, a hustler’s dream. Ten keys or better and most of my clients were Willie Falcon’s people.

  Agitated, Spitler spoke through clenched teeth. “You’re not listening to me. Someone is flooding the town with high quality heroin called China White, now we got white kids dying too,” he said, walking up to me getting all in my face. I could smell his fetid breath. There was something about what he said. Maybe it was the way that he said it all in my face. I just lost it.